


My Lady

by Incarcarous



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29497350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incarcarous/pseuds/Incarcarous
Summary: Some connected chapters about how Tristan de Martel may've been as a human, before he met the Mikaelsons, and whether he really was as cruel as Lucien said.
Relationships: Aurora de Martel & Tristan de Martel, Tristan de Martel/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	My Lady

Elinor's face ached with the effort of keeping of a polite smile on her face, wanting to seem gracious, but at the same time, not appear too eager, making simply getting through the day a constant struggle. Her first wedding, she'd been captivated by everything: her new husband's large castle, the beauty of her dress, and the decorations, the multitude of guests, anything to keep her mind off the actual marriage part, but this time, she was more jaded, getting through the ceremony and later, the feast with a weary acceptance of her situation, nodding at those she was familiar with, even though their party numbered very few. There was her eldest brother, seated across the room, smiling encouragingly at her through the many courses, sent as a representative of their family; her ladies-in-waiting, all wearing identical sycophantic simpers, all there to gain prestige and honour for their families, until they could be married off to the highest bidder, just like her.  
She oughtn't to be so bitter, she reminded herself, painfully aware of her headdress digging into her scalp. It could've been much worse, indeed, she'd been expecting much worse than this pretty French castle, surrounded by beautiful countryside, and filled with all manner of intriguing things, with so many rooms it would've taken her a year to fully explore it. Even her betrothed - her husband, now, she realized, feeling the cold metal band on her finger - wasn't as terrible as she had imagined, especially after her last, short marriage to a man old enough to be her grandfather in order for her father to form an alliance. This time, he'd chosen well. Her new husband wasn't that much older than her, she guessed around five-and-twenty, and rather good-looking, she'd noticed immediately, with light blue eyes strangely similar to her own, that had glanced over her, once, twice, in a way that suggested he liked what he saw. If only he weren't so damn aggravating.  
She was well aware of the picture she made, and she actively encouraged it, acting every inch the sweet, helpless, pretty young widow, knowing it appealed to most men's egos to believe a woman was completely at his mercy, his to do as he liked with, certain he wouldn't be an exception. Peculiarly, he didn't appear taken in, watching her with a cool, detached gaze that seemed to catch everything, smirking maddeningly whenever he caught the facade dropping, as if it were a private joke that only the two of them were in on. Even now, he turned just in time to catch her looking at him, leaning close enough so only she caught his whisper of "You're staring." The mocking tone he used infuriated her, and she fought to keep her measured smile on her face when she saw one of her ladies’ giggle across the table, clearly mistaking it for some lover's honeyed words, rather than the blatant aggravation it so clearly was.   
"I am not." she hissed back, gazing up at him adoringly, a light hand on his arm, the perfect bride, beaming as those around the table noticed her apparent affection for her new husband. He looked back at her, amused by her deft manipulation of the situation.   
"Well-played, wife." She narrowed her eyes at the honorific, that, if it were anyone else, she would've regarded as an endearment, but in his low, mocking voice became an insult, before resuming her act, keeping an adoring look on her face as he refilled her wine goblet himself, brushing aside the servant who stepped forward to do it. "But I'm fairly certain you were."

"I assure you, I was not, my lord." she replied stiffly, fixing her gaze firmly on her food, beginning to wonder how impolite it would be if she stabbed him before the wedding night.  
"You very much were, my love, but I suppose I'll have to let it go." She frowned at his endearment, as well as the tender tone he'd delivered it in, until she saw his eyes flick over to her brother, who was frowning at them, smiling her first genuine smile of the night at the gesture, and her husband's answering frown, bemused at the sudden bright smile appearing on her face. Shrugging, he turned to talk to a lesser noble seated next to him, seeming rather bored with the conversation, occasionally looking over at Elinor, who shot him a small, sardonic smile.  
"Now, who's staring?"  
He didn't reply, gritting his teeth and reminding himself he'd have her all alone in mere hours, contenting himself with vividly imagining throttling her in the meantime, while she studied him intently, rather as if he was a tapestry hung on the wall, rather than her, albeit very new, husband, playing the part of a devoted wife irritatingly well, earning the whispered admiration of everyone around them, while he simply had to grin and bear it, acting as if he were delighted to be married off to satisfy his father, to an aggravating little chit, who was now smiling angelically, innocent blue eyes gleaming with mischief. It was almost too much to bear, and so he was incredibly thankful when his father rose from his chair, officially signalling the end of the wedding feast, and the beginning of the wedding entertainments, after which would be the wedding night, which he, at least, had been looking forward to for quite some time.  
His bride did not seem quite so eager, visibly blanching, even more so when he leaned down, whispering, faux-affectionately, "Nervous?", prompting her to stand hard on his foot under the table, making him wince. To be sure, she sat politely beside him during the entertainment, laughing as merrily as anyone else at the antics of the tumblers, putting on just as much of a show as them, but her tight grip on his arm betrayed her real feelings, despite the smile she wore for the benefit of her brother, and his father. The show lasted but a short while, barely delaying what she now dreaded, after two years of being as free as a bird, without having to force herself to endure the whole embarrassing marital ordeal.  
Her last husband had been old and sickly, pretending to youth with a pretty young wife, something that probably contributed to his death, but she sensed Lord Tristan wouldn't be satisfied with a few pretend gasps, ten minutes of strange, uncomfortable pain, and then blissful sleep, where she could pretend she was still a child, at home with her family, rather than trapped in the bed of a man in his dotage, alone and frightened. Now, of course, she was older, hardly the scared girl she'd been then, but she was certain here, there would be no opportunities to pretend, imagine she was somewhere else. She bit her lip, tightening her hold on his arm, briefly soothed by his slight wince at the pressure she was now exerting, before returning to smooth indifference, the look in his eye showing he was far from his father's hall in his mind, probably already in their bedchamber.  
She still looked rather pale when, to her relief, the Count called for dancing, watching her ladies all take up places in a circle, smiling fixedly ahead, refusing to be engaged in conversation, ignoring all his clumsy attempts to speak to her. Ordinarily, he might’ve been irritated, but she wasn’t being outwardly rude, smiling politely whenever he spoke, every inch the perfect bride, and it was obvious she was nervous, though she wouldn’t admit it, nibbling at her lower lip, and looking rather as though she wanted to throw herself off the dais.   
This expression only increased as the dancing drew to an end, the feast completed, and the wedding night began properly. Following obediently as a little puppy after her ladies, who had descended, en masse, to escort her to her chambers, she wore a shy smile, looking up at him endearingly, but with her eyes clearly panicked, even more so when he leant forward slightly, whispering, in an awkward attempt at encouragement “It won’t be so bad.”   
“Not for you, it won’t.” she replied sulkily, curtseying to both him, and his father as she left the dais, shooting a nervous smile at Aurora, who she’d become close to over the two weeks since she’d come, and who joined the procession of ladies, beaming back.   
Her bedchamber was stiflingly hot, the fire banked up with smouldering logs and pine, nearly suffocating her with it’s boiling heat, making Elinor want to scream. She couldn’t, though, so instead, she sat obediently in bed, taking a sip of the spiced wedding ale, dressed a pretty new lace nightgown, swallowing her apprehension, while her ladies giggled around her.  
“I’m so glad you’re my sister now.” Aurora confided, drawing closer to her as they all waited for her bridegroom to make an appearance. “You’re much nicer than I thought you would be.”   
“So am I.” she confessed, this one of the only truthful things she had said tonight. She did like Aurora, and was far more fond of her then her new husband, who was at present, approaching the door, raucous laughter following him as the priest entered first, to bless the marriage bed, him and his friends following after, most of them boisterous and rowdy, clearly already drunk.  
She sat calmly in bed, propped up on numerous pillows, while everyone crowded into her bedchamber, her chief lady in waiting, one of her mother’s friends, Lady Touchard, freezing some of the more vulgar gentlemen with an icy stare, cutting off a bawdy jest with a well-chosen remark. Idly, she found herself looking at her new husband curiously as he slipped into the covers beside her, wondering how she could possibly delay the inevitable, as the wedding guests reluctantly trailed out, Aurora giving her one last wave before leaving her alone, in her marriage bed, with only her wits to get her out of consummating it there and then.  
He didn’t speak for a while, regarding her just as inquiringly as she had him, noticing all thoughts of things he hadn’t from a distance. She was astonishingly pretty, he’d known that, and as such, had been shocked when she’d arrived, not expecting a attractive young woman where he’d been told would be a sombre widow, but from here, he could see the light dusting of freckles along her nose and cheeks, that were at present turning a dusky pink from embarrassment, light blue eyes looking purposefully away from him.  
“I trust you know what to do?” he questioned finally, feeling her tense next to him at his query, cursing the awkward way it sounded. “I mean, -“  
“Of course. You forget, this isn’t my first marriage.”   
“I was aware.”  
She didn’t reply, turning her face towards the fire, pretending to be deep in thought, frowning as he suddenly started to laugh, apologising but continuing to chuckle, though at what, she couldn’t tell.  
“What is it?”  
“I’m sorry, it’s just – This is terrible, isn’t it? I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m supposed to do.”  
“I find that hard to believe.” she answered, giggling a little at his expression, now looking at him properly, looking almost pleased at what he’d said, and reminding him he had married a renowned beauty, when she wasn’t sulking, her long blonde hair spread out on her shoulders like a virgin bride.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“I don’t think even you know what you mean.”  
“I would not hurt you.” he said lightly, hesitantly, seeing the smile slowly leave her face, at the mention of consummating their marriage. Surely, she could not be afraid? She was a widow, after all, and had surely bedded her last husband, old and ailing as he had been.   
“I know you would not try to.”  
She didn’t appear to be enthusiastic about it at all, merely resigned, closing her eyes in weary anticipation, simply hoping he would be content for her to simply lie there, and that wouldn’t make her do anything too humiliating. It was rather a surprise, then, when he didn’t touch her immediately, instead asking courteously “Are you sure? We –“  
“Of course.” It was nice of him to ask, she reflected, smoothing her lace nightgown, and smiling at him, pretending to a confidence she did not feel. Naturally, it meant nothing, and even if she had denied him, she didn’t doubt he would’ve continued, but it was nice to at least pretend she had some semblance of choice, while she racked her brains for a way to refuse him politely.  
Cautiously, he leant forward, but instead of pawing her around, as she’d expected, he dipped his head to kiss her, taking all thoughts of refusal out of her head, forcing her to become wanton for the first time in her life, winding her arms around his neck and kissing him back, sighing in real pleasure as he moved his mouth down to her neck, and then her collarbone, trying to remind herself why she had wanted to refuse this.  
He moved so he was above her, carefully keeping his weight off her, his teeth grazing her neck now, leaving light pink marks that would surely show from the neckline of her gown, not that either of them were thinking of that, as he deftly started to undo the pearl buttons on her nightdress, privately thinking she looked absolutely sinful like this, a far cry from the angel he had compared her to earlier.  
Even now, she watched with an odd expression on her face as he made to remove her nightgown, hair tumbled around her shoulders, lying between his sheets, with marks from his kisses along her throat.  
“Alright?”  
“Forgive me, my lord. I have a headache.” she said stiffly, remembering, as if from a long time ago, though it had only been two years, that this had been one of her easy excuses, and, if not used too often, fairly effective against warding off marital relations, yet cringing at how awkward it sounded, hoping he would believe her.  
“A headache? You ought to have told me.” Her husband seemed worried, and she had to bite back a laugh at the concerned expression on his face. It would not do for him to think she was laughing at him, and yet, when he inquired so pleasantly if she would like mead, pastries, anything at all, it was even harder to keep a straight face at her own deception.   
Briefly, she wondered if she ought to have let him bed her. Considering how nice he was being, perhaps he would’ve been gentle, and she might even enjoy it as her sisters had told her they did, inexplicable though it seemed for anyone to enjoy such damp fumbling as she had endured so far throughout her life. His kiss had been enjoyable, though, without the stink of stale breath, and feeling of being suffocated she had been expecting, instead being sweet, and almost tender. She debated it briefly, before deciding against it. No matter how kind he was, she’d much rather limit how often she’d have to endure the whole performance and showing eagerness would be terrible. So far, she did not want to give him any cause of complaint in her, and certainly not lustfulness, when such a complaint could not be further from the truth.  
And so, it went on. The first night, their wedding night, she complained of a headache, and he was tender-hearted enough to leave her alone, not wanting to hurt her further. The second, she was asleep before he arrived in her bedchamber, banking on the assumption he wouldn’t wake her, which he didn’t, to his credit, leaving quietly without disturbing her, while she watched him from beneath lowered lashes, praying he wouldn’t make a fuss. The next morning, she discovered with joy, she had begun her courses, which meant he couldn’t come to her bed for at least a few more days, though he still slept in her bed every night, waiting patiently until she could defer no longer.  
That day came fairly quickly, the next week, when her courses ended, and she could think of no further reasons to defer him, besides to weakly protest that she was tired, and that she’d much prefer to just go to bed.  
He didn’t seem much convinced, having heard the same excuse for the past four days. “If you don’t want me in your bed, you could simply say so.” he cut in gently, irritating her with how kind he was being. She would’ve felt much more justified if he had snapped at her, than this continual patience, something she had realised was rare for him. He was not a man who waited for what he wanted, which made it even more strange that he was now sitting on the edge of her bed, looking earnest. “If you’re ill, I can leave.”  
“Stay.” she said simply, wishing she was a man so she could just ask him to leave, without having to always be a good, dutiful wife. Although, if she were a man, in all likeliness, she wouldn’t be here, she reflected, the thought making her giggle, realising, too late, that he probably thought she was laughing at him, judging by the slight frown he was now wearing, and the strange way he was looking at her.  
“What is it?”  
“Something perfectly ridiculous. You would think it was foolish.”  
“Right. You know, we will have to consummate our marriage eventually. If we don’t, it won’t be valid, and –“  
“I know.” she replied, looking not at all happy at his bringing up the topic, bringing the bedsheets over her as if they might protect him from his gentle questioning, even though she knew what he was saying was true. Nonconsummation would make the marriage invalid, which was the last thing she wanted, quite enjoying her new life at Marseille, but still she put it off, even though, at this stage, she probably ought to simply get it over with.  
Glancing over at him, he appeared to be deep in thought, saying finally, hesitantly “Is that what you want? To invalidate the marriage so you can return home?”  
She could’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face. “Of course not, my lord. I enjoy being here far more than I would at home, and besides, even if I were to return, my father would no doubt marry me off again, to someone far more disagreeable than you.”  
“Then I’m afraid I’m lost. That was the only reason I could think of as to why you would put this off so many times, when we both know it is inevitable, despite what we might think about it.”  
“And what do you think about it?” she demanded coldly, aware she was making herself ridiculous. She didn’t want him in her bed anyway, so why would it sting so much that he might not want her?  
He shrugged, impatience becoming apparent on his face. “There are plenty of women who would be glad to have me in their bed. I will not distress myself over one who does not.”  
“It’s not that I don’t want to –“  
“Yes, I know. You either have a headache, or a stomach-ache, or some other sort of ache, every single night. I wish you would just tell me if you didn’t want me in your bed, instead of lying about it.”  
“I’m not lying.” she said sulkily, aware she ought to soothe his hurt ego, and say something sweet, but everything that was contrary in her rose to his petulant jabs, and she found herself sneering “If there are so many women who would have you, why don’t you go to one of them? Since, as you say, I am not one of them, you might leave me to sleep, without disturbance.”  
He looked as though she’d slapped him, and she felt a brief pang of regret as he gave her a tight-lipped smile, clearly angry now, though with good reason. “Because you are my wife, and I’d prefer to be civil with you, though clearly, that isn’t going to be possible.”  
“Because you made it impossible.”  
“Me? I made this impossible? You’re the one, who –“  
“Don’t pin this on me. This is your fault.”  
“And how exactly is that?” She simply folded her arms over her chest in response, rather like a mother dealing with a recalcitrant child, looking as though any minute she would shake her finger at him and send him to bed without dinner. It was intensely annoying, he thought, and, in truth, he was right, and she had intended it to be, giving him a condescending smile, as if he were a particularly dim child.  
“Stop doing that.”  
“Doing what?”  
“Looking at me as though I were an idiot.”  
This was where, she reflected later, she had truly ruined things. Instead of denying it, she simply snorted contemptuously. “You’re not?”  
He stood up suddenly, and she almost thought he might strike her, wanting to hurt her to assuage his own hurt pride, but instead he walked over to the door of her chambers, making to leave until she called after him.  
“Where are you going?”  
“Well, madam, I thought I might act on your earlier suggestion, charming as it was. I’m sure your father would’ve approved.” He dodged the cushion she threw at him in response, wearing a sardonic smile that was a far cry from his earlier kind encouragement. “After all, since you so clearly despise me, I see no reason to subject myself to your company. I will inform my father in the morning of your feelings, and I’m sure you will be sent home, just as you wish.”  
She was practically shaking with anger now, spitting back “I am your wife. You cannot put me aside –“  
“You are? D’you know, I didn’t even notice.”  
“You can’t leave.”  
“I think you’ll find I can. I have no desire to spend my night in the bed of a woman who despises me.”  
“I don’t despise you.”  
“You’re doing a very good job of acting like it.”  
“Why? Because I won’t let you bed me? You must be more of a child than I thought then, to take everything so badly to heart, when –“  
“Because you’ve treated me like a nuisance since we were betrothed, you’ve ignored me since our marriage, and now you’re lying to me when you could just say the truth.”  
“The truth? The truth is that I have no desire to have you in my bed, now or ever. This marriage is my father’s doing not mine, and I wish to God I could undo it.” she snarled, completely heedless of how many problems her words might create very soon, focusing on directing all the malice she possessed at him.  
“Then we are in agreement. This is a gross mistake, on the part of your father and mine, and it needs to be resolved.”  
“We are.”  
“Good.” he replied, his hand now on the handle of the door. “I’m glad.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“Anywhere but here.”  
“You can’t leave.” she repeated, sitting up properly now. “It would look strange, and someone might see.”  
“Let them.”   
“Fine. Leave then. I’ll certainly sleep better without you.”  
“Brilliant. I wish you joy of your cold bed, my lady.”  
“And will yours be warm tonight?” she inquired, saccharine sweet. “Perhaps you might find a whore you can pay to do what your wife would not.”  
“That is a fault in you, not me. And perhaps I will. Why, would it bother you?”  
“Not at all. I’m grateful to whoever the poor woman is, so that I will not have to bear your cruelty any longer.”  
“My cruelty, madam? You can hardly claim of being mistreated.”  
“Seeing you every day is mistreatment enough.”  
“I see now, why my father praised you so much. You really are sweet, aren’t you, with the kindest tongue –“  
“I am kind to those that deserve my kindness. So far, you have not shown me you are deserving.”  
“I have no desire to see your kindness. In fact, I am probably better off without it, if this is what you consider kindness.”  
She regarded him scornfully, before thinking of an idea, admittedly not her best, but an idea, nonetheless. “I want you to know, I don’t want this, but you are forcing my hand. If you spend tonight with a whore, I will tell my ladies, who will spread it around the castle, no doubt, the real reason we have not consummated our marriage.”  
“Which is? I doubt you are threatening me with releasing knowledge of your unwillingness.”  
“Simply that you were embarrassed, because you could not –“  
“Could not what?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she could not help thinking he looked rather handsome, completely unbidden, dismissing the thought immediately.  
“You know perfectly well what I mean. I’ll say you could not perform your marital duties. Your reputation would be ruined and et voila! This becomes your issue, not mine.”  
“I assure you, my dear, that is far from the case.” he replied, looking, in spite of himself, rather impressed at her cunning, even as she frustrated him. “You would know that if you weren’t so determined to hate me, though I have nothing at all to deserve your scorn.  
He was perfectly certain now, that his father had married him to an absolute devil of a woman, and that, before the year was out, she would drive him mad. Even now, she was smirking at him, merriment in her eyes as she regarded him, still looking, as one of his friends had described her as on their wedding night “good enough to eat”, her long blonde hair tied up into a single plait that went all the way down the back of her lacy nightdress, with a temptingly low neckline that displayed clear, porcelain skin. Too late, he realised she had been talking, while he’d been lost in her own thoughts, and was now frowning at him,  
“I wish you would listen to me when I talk to you.”  
“Well, seeing as I appear to have married a perfect tyrant, I suppose I shall have to learn to. What did you want?”  
“It doesn’t matter now.”  
“Please, do continue. I would like to have one good memory of tonight that isn’t you screeching at me.”  
“I don’t screech.” she frowned, her expression forming the most ridiculous little pout, one that made him laugh, as he took a seat by the fire, staring into its depths, while she came up behind him, startling him.  
“Are you trying to kill me?” he asked with a laugh, completely unprepared for her to lean down, and press her lips to his, gently initiating a kiss that he returned fully, smiling at her final acquiescence, hands cautiously reaching out to hold her waist, until she pulled away, looking a little shocked at her own daring, breathing heavily.  
“There’s your good memory.” she said, climbing back into bed, and shooting him a small smile, one that he remembered when he followed her, hours later, into bed, and as he was unable to sleep, watching the small, smiling figure beside him.  
***  
When he woke up, she was asleep on his shoulder, far more affectionate when asleep than she’d ever been awake, smiling at something in her dream, and looking much serene than she did awake, without a scowl, or worried frown on her face. Glancing out of the window, he noted the sun already in the sky, and tapped her shoulder lightly, to wake her up for the day, not expecting her to kick him hard, muttering “Stop it, Cecily, or I’ll tell Mother.”   
Wincing, he tried again, saying loudly “My lady? You ought to wake up, or you’ll miss Prime.”  
“Elinor.” she corrected sleepily, noticing his discomfort. “I’m so sorry, did I kick you?”  
“Quite hard. Who’s Cecily?”  
“My older sister. We used to share a bed, and she was rather fond of waking me at dawn by dashing cold water on my head.”  
“Sounds like a beast. No wonder you kicked me.”  
“I’m awfully sorry. Did I bother you during the night? I’ve been told I talk in my sleep something dreadful.”  
“I shall anticipate it eagerly.” he smiled easily, as she propped herself up on pillows, responding to his smile with a small one of her own, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “My sister used to sleepwalk, and it was enormously entertaining finding out where she had wandered off to. Once, she got as far as the garden, in her nightdress before we found her.”  
“I don’t sleepwalk, thankfully, though I did wake up once with Cecily trying to shove me out of the window when we were little.”  
“Lucky for me then, that she did not succeed.” he said lightly, making her giggle in response, taking her hair out of it’s careful plait, and fixing it back until he tucked a piece behind her ear, blushing when he interrupted “Leave it. You look beautiful like that.”  
“Now, I know you’re flattering me.”  
“Not at all. You really are as lovely as my father said you were.”  
“Why, were you expecting a wizened old crone?” she teased, shifting her position so her head was against his shoulder, and he was frowning at her sudden show of affection, choosing to accept it, enjoying the bright, clear morning with his pretty, new bride, who now seemed to be putting away her earlier doubts, behaving as a real wife.   
“Well, your father described you as “intelligent” and “learned”, which I must admit, threw me. Most men don’t focus on their daughter’s learning when getting her married, unless her looks are too poor to be mentioned comfortably.”  
“Do men not like a learned wife?” she questioned, frowning slightly.  
“Most men would not.”  
“And you?”  
“You’ll have to find out.” he said lightly, getting up and looking briefly out of the window, before turning back to the bed and frowning.   
“What is it?”  
“It doesn’t look right. The sheets are too neat, and clean, no-one will believe –“  
“Well, surely, everyone knows I am no blushing virgin.” she replied, looking confused. “The sheets would not be stained, naturally.”  
“I know that.” He waved a hand dismissively, gesturing at the smooth bedsheets, the implication of what he was saying clearly lost on her. “But if we, uh – You are aware –“  
“Oh.” She went pink with embarrassment, something he found rather endearing, nodding in understanding. “Right.”  
“Once or twice, it could be explained away, but at this stage, the maids might become suspicious, and God only knows, they are the cause of all gossip in this castle.”  
“Wouldn’t you want that?” she questioned curiously, tilting her head to the side, rather like a little bird, he thought idly, regarding him. “It would strengthen your claim to your father, that I am unreasonable –“  
This time, it was his turn to flush embarrassedly. “Forgive me. I was angry, and I oughtn’t to have said anything of the sort. It was cruel of me –“  
“I rather think it was more my fault. I goaded you on purpose –“  
“I rather thought you did. Am I forgiven?”  
“Of course. I’m rather glad you apologised though. I thought I would have to do it, and I’m frightfully proud about such things.”  
“Isn’t that a sin?” he teased, taking a seat on the end of the bed, by her feet, rewarded by a bright little smile.  
“I’ll have to confess it.” She sat up properly, steeling herself for what she was about to do. Even though he’d reassured her his threat of sending her back home were simply that, baseless threats, she’d been shaken, realising that if it were to occur, not only would her father be furious, but her situation would probably worsen. No, it would be much better to accustom herself to her new life, which, in truth, was not at all as bad as she had imagined earlier. 

She did want to be a good wife to him, having seen the gentle way he had treated her, a far cry from what she had heard of his being quick to anger, and quicker still to torment people for small grievances, knowing that her last husband would not have tolerated her putting off his advances so far. And so, she smiled up at him, coming a little closer and finally, kissing him, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him gently towards the bed, so he was lying above her, leaving gentle kisses along her neck, a hoarse groan of pleasure leaving his mouth when she grew bolder, tugging at the bottom of his nightshirt, responding to his kisses with a hesitant one of her own.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, pulling away, looking down at her mouth, a little swollen with kisses, her breath coming in short little gasps, drawing him closer again, a hand on his shoulder.

“Positive.”  
“I would not have you do anything you didn’t want to.” he said earnestly, strengthening her resolve. She was certain he would not hurt her, and this was better for everyone. Secretly, she rather wanted it too, his tender caresses igniting something in her that she was certain she had never felt before, that all the drunken fumbling, and painful nights where she had turned her face to the wall, hoping her husband was too tired to come to her rooms, years ago now, had never awakened. “We can wait –“  
“If you would rather wait –“  
“Believe me, I would like nothing better than to do this now, but I wish that you would want it too, not just seek to please me.”  
She replied by pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw, stiffening when his hand trailed south, his face buried in her neck, trailing kisses that made her shudder into his touch, a whimper escaping her lips at what he was doing, a strange sensation building in her stomach –  
They were interrupted by a loud voice screeching her name outside her chambers, making her grateful he had locked the door from the inside, gasping as he continued, faster and faster until –  
“Elinor! You must rise, we will be late for Prime.“  
“Must she shriek so?” he groaned, this time from exasperation, rather than arousal, Elinor’s head falling back onto the pillows as he abandoned his caresses, close to screaming herself from frustration.  
“Ignore her.” she advised, tracing a scar along his shoulder, wondering how she could make him touch her again, another small part of her rolling its eyes at the huge difference between the Elinor of last night, who had been cold and furious, determined to never let him touch her again, and the Elinor of only a few hours later, craving his mouth back on hers. “What’s this?”  
“Sword fight.”   
“What? How does one get in a sword fight? When?”  
“I’ll tell you all about it later.” he promised, amused at her shocked expression, and struck with the irrepressible urge to kiss her. “Would it be unforgivable of me if I continued what you started?”  
“Oh, please do.” she sighed in apparent relief. “I was wondering how to ask.”  
He did, with far more fervour than before, knowing their time was limited the picture she made, lying back in between his silk bedsheets, hair loose around her shoulders, moaning at his touch, far more erotic than she probably realised, eyes shut in bliss as the heat in her stomach grew, her breath coming faster and faster until –  
“Elinor!”  
“Her Ladyship is... indisposed.” he called back, the girl in question giggling at the frustration evident in his voice, and then more at the reply.  
“Well, she ought to be disposed right this minute. She’s going to be late for prayers.”  
“I suppose she’ll just have to be late then.”  
“She will not. I’m afraid I will have to insist she gets up. Now.“  
“Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to insist she stays.”  
By this point, she was in peals of laughter, cramming a hand over her mouth to stop the woman outside the door hearing, and also to stifle the whine she could not stop leaving her lips, forgetting everything outside of the two of them, as the coil in her stomach snapped, leaving her gasping out muffled curses, heedless of anything except herself and the sensation he was prompting in her, and the trail of kisses he was leaving along her collarbone.  
“Elinor!”  
“The nerve of that woman.” he grumbled, as she made to roll out from under him, handing him back his nightshirt and stumbling on shaky legs, rather like a baby deer, over to the door, unlocking it and frowning at Lady Touchard, who was waiting, with a face like stone on the other side.  
“Finally.” She peered past Elinor, into the room, where her husband was donning his shirt, glaring at her, the rumpled bedsheets and flushed faces making it abundantly clear what they had been doing. “You ought to have opened the door earlier.”  
“Forgive me. Did you want something?”  
“I want you to open the door when I ask you to. Your mother would not approve of –“  
“My mother had thirteen children, and none of them grew on trees.” she said calmly. “I doubt she would disapprove.” Lady Touchard’s face went some shade between purple and magenta at her words, while her husband appeared to be having some sort of fit, shaking with silent laughter, as he got out of bed, trying and failing to keep a straight face.  
“She sent me here to assure your good behaviour. So far, I am not seeing any.” she said stiffly, looking rather as though she wasn’t sure which of them was more irritating, settling for glowering at Lord Tristan, whose shoulders were still shaking, noticing her glare and meeting it fully.  
“I’m perfectly pleased with my wife’s behaviour.” he challenged, one hand on the door handle. “I have no complaint to make of her.”  
“I’m sure you don’t.”  
Turning to Elinor, who looked rather weary, anticipating a lecture as soon as he was to leave, he asked gently “What will you be doing today? Are you busy?”, completely ignoring the lady behind her, noticing a light pink mark on her neck, revealed by the low neckline of her nightdress, and smiling, just as she was.  
“In my rooms, sewing, I suppose. Should I be expecting you?”  
“I think I can do better than that. Would you like to go riding with me, after Prime?”  
“Her Ladyship must –“  
He disregarded the interruption, waiting for her assent, which she gave with a small nod, saying hesitantly “I would be honoured, but I’m afraid I have no horse.”  
“That can be easily resolved, there is certain to be one appropriate. Good day, my – Elinor. Lady Touchard.” With that, he left, leaving her to the inevitable lecture. Elinor sighed, taking a seat by the fireplace, steeling herself for a long and boring morning. At least she had riding to look forward to, she thought, nodding obediently as the older woman started criticising her manners, behaviour, and anything else she could think of, letting her mind wander.


End file.
